Forgotten?
by Crimson Coin
Summary: FIN In honor of 11-9, Chris Jericho's birthday, it's a Jericho birthday fic. And everybody forgot, or at least that's what he thinks. Chris-Trish Please R&R FIN


Title: Forgotten?  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 13  
  
Summery: It's Chris Jericho's birthday ... and no one remembered.  
  
Timeline: November 9, 2003  
  
Disclaimer: Chris Jericho, Trish Stratus, Lita, Christian ... none of them belong to me nor does the WWE  
  
Pairing: Chris/Trish (Sorry I'm a shipper) And teasing of other couples.  
  
Archiving: Go for it, just let me know  
  
+++  
  
He was angry. He was more than angry. Chris Jericho was utterly pissed off. Completely and totally pissed at the world. Ok, so the house show just ended. Ok, the day was almost over. Fine. And the day was almost over and no one remembered. No one remembered how today was so important to him. Well, not important important. Just ... it meant something.  
  
He was thirty-three years old.  
  
Yup, he turned thirty-three today, and no one remembered. Christian, Rob, none of the guys in the locker room said a damn thing. Even Trish didn't say anything. Trish ... his girlfriend. The woman who was supposed to love him and ... well, at least remember these kind of things. And she acted like nothing was different. Like today was just every other day.  
  
She wasn't booked in the house show today. So she stayed at the hotel, wanting to relax. Granted her schedule had been quite hectic lately and she deserved the day off to rest. But when he left for the arena ... nothing special. Just a soft kiss on the lips and she wished him luck and he thought that maybe she'd say something. Anything.  
  
Nope  
  
Nothing. She said nothing else. Just looked at him, asking what he was looking at. Rejected, he'd left her. Left for the arena, hoping that maybe one of his friends knew, or at least remembered. He didn't care about gifts. He didn't need gifts. He only wanted somebody to wish him a Happy Birthday. Just two simple words. Happy Birthday. That's all he wanted to hear. Maybe to prove that at least somebody cared. But apparently, nobody did.  
  
Hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder, Chris walked out of the locker room. "Chris!" It was Christian.  
  
Chris didn't want to acknowledge. He just kept walking.  
  
"Hey, Chris. Wait up."  
  
Chris stopped, turning to Christian, a stoic look on his face. "What is it?"  
  
Christian smiled. "Hey man, where you goin? Matt's here with Amy and we're all going out to a bar for a few drinks."  
  
"Not tonight."  
  
"What do you mean, 'Not Tonight.' Come on, it's Matt, Amy, me, Rob, Drew and Stacy. COME ON!!! It'll be fun."  
  
"I told you not tonight." Chris snapped, continuing to walk down the hall.  
  
Christian ran after him. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Back to the room."  
  
"No, you can't." Christian shot out and Jericho froze, glaring over his shoulder. "You can't, cuz ... you've got to come out with us. Yeah. It'll be ... uhm ... fun and we're just gonna get some drinks and have a great time."  
  
Jericho growled. "I don't want to have a good time. I don't want to go have a drink. I don't want to do anything. I just want to go home ... or back to the room, whatever. And just go to bed. And I swear to God, if you say anything else about me having to go out ... I'll deck you."  
  
"Chris."  
  
"DON'T TEST ME, JAY!" Chris screamed, his eyes on fire as he stared right through Christian. "Just don't fucking test me." That said, he walked away.  
  
Thank God the hotel was just across the street. Grinding his teeth, Chris walked through the lobby, up the stairs, and right to his door. He swore as he dug through his bag, trying to find his key. Finally, fisting the card, he swiped it through the door and pushed in.  
  
He didn't even bother looking up. Just kept his head bowed, despite hearing her gasp in surprise. He tossed his bag on the floor behind the door. "Chris?" her shocked voice rang out. "I thought you were going out with everyone."  
  
"I didn't feel like it." He snarled, glancing up at her, a bathrobe tied around her waist, she stood across the room. "And if you start too about me going out with them ... I'll flip. I swear to God, I'll flip."  
  
"Chrissy, Baby ..." Trish cooed. "What happened? Did something happen at the arena?"  
  
"Actually nothing happened at the arena and that's the fucking point. Nothing happened, ok? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And nothing was said and nothing was done and NOTHING WAS NOTHING!"  
  
"Chrissy."  
  
"Cut the Chrissy shit." Jericho spat. "You know, the guys I can understand. I understand them. They're guys. And even Amy cuz she's so ecstatic that Matt is on the same show as her. Fine, I get that. I get that Adam has more stuff on his mind. I get that Benoit and Angle are really tied up right now. I get that. Fine. I don't like it, but I get that. But you ... no, I don't get you. I don't get how you of all people can't fucking remember."  
  
Her eyes blazed. "You fucking bastard."  
  
He placed a hand on his chest. "I'm the fucking bastard. Oh really, I have every right to be pissed. And I am pissed."  
  
She shook her head, forcing a little laugh to keep from crying. "You're pissed. Why are you pissed, Christopher. Huh? Why are you pissed?"  
  
"CUZ YOU FORGOT IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! I remember everyone else's. I remember our anniversary and your birthday and everybody else's birthday and hell, even Matt and Amy's anniversary. And the one time where maybe I just want somebody to say, 'Hey, Chris, happy birthday man.' And nobody does. CUZ YOU ALL FORGOT!!!"  
  
"DID I FORGET?" She hollered, motioning around the room. "Look ... LOOK! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I FORGOT?!"  
  
And for the first time, Chris actually took the time to look around the room. The lights were turned a little low, some candles lit on the bed stand. Inhaling, he recognized the scent. Vanilla. He loved vanilla. Next to those candles sat a couple bottles of massage oil. On the table across the way were a few wrapped boxes and an envelope. In front of that table was a bucket filled with ice and what appeared to be champagne chilling inside. He looked to her, shocked, his eyes wide and his heart aching at the tears in her eyes.  
  
Trish untied her robe, opening it to his gaze. "Does it fucking look like I forgot?" she whispered, more hurt then angry this time.  
  
He silently swore, his eyes locked on her body. A sheer black thong and matching bra. Black as anything, little rhinestones adorning the waist of the panties. Every single curve of her luscious body shown in the perfect way. That sheer bra showing the flesh and yet hiding it enough so that not too much was visible.  
  
Those tears fell down her cheek. "Does it look like I forgot?" And she closed the robe, tying it around her waist and crossing her arms over her chest. She ducked her head, her hair tumbling forward and curtaining her face. "You're so quick to just jump to conclusions." She chided softly. "You're such a fucking hot head and you think that nobody is ever doing anything about you. And that's not true. It's never true. Jason was taking you out with them and they were gonna celebrate WITH YOU! And you were going to have a good time and then come back here and I had all this ready for you and ... and I had this all planned. And it's ruined."  
  
"Shit" Jericho cursed himself, placing a hand over his eyes.  
  
Trish looked up at him. "God Damn it, Chrissy, why do you have to be such a fool?"  
  
Chris took a step closer, raking a hand through his hair. "You did all this for me. You didn't forget. Nobody forgot did they. It was just all one big surprise and I ... Fuck."  
  
Sighing, Trish shook her head, turning her back and looking towards the window.  
  
Chris in turn, sighed and stepped closer. Stepped right up to her, his hands on her shoulders. "The night doesn't have to be ruined." Carefully, giving her more than enough time to stop him, he traced his hands around her, slowly untying the robe. She didn't stop him and he gently pulled the robe from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.  
  
Trish sighed again, leaning back slightly into his touch. Those large hands caressing down her shoulders to her sides, then wrapping around her waist from behind and hugging her against his chest. She smiled. "Open your gifts."  
  
"All right." He breathed, easing away from her and walking to the table. Tearing the wrapping off the first, he opened the box. Inside, a pair of red silk boxers, black silk boxers and a deep blue button down long sleeved silk dress shirt. "Turn around." He said to her with a smile.  
  
Trish rolled her eyes, doing as he said. "Fine." And she waited patiently.  
  
"Ok."  
  
Trish turned back around to face him, smiling at the fact that he wore nothing now but the new pair of red silk boxers she'd just given him. His other clothing discarded in a heap on the floor. He just looked so sexy. His hair loose and down, his tight chest and abs and those large arms and powerful thighs. "Do you like?" she asked.  
  
He wiggled slightly then rubbed a hand over the silky fabric. "It's all soft and silky and comfy." He smiled. "I like."  
  
"Good cuz I like you in them too." Trish teased, glad that they'd gotten past the little ordeal and could simply enjoy the evening.  
  
Chris ripped into the next package, tearing off the top of the box. Inside were two more dress shirts. "Are you trying to tell me something?"  
  
She laughed. "I just want my man well dressed, is that such a crime?"  
  
"Nope." He said, smugly. "Especially when I just picture you ripping those clothes off of me."  
  
She blushed slightly, rolling her eyes. "You wish."  
  
He cocked a brow. "Don't you mean ... you wish?"  
  
"Open the envelope." She ordered, gently.  
  
Smiling, he tore open the envelope, reaching inside. "Holy Shit."  
  
"You like?"  
  
His eyes were still wide. "Front row seats to the New York Rangers? Baby, I more than like."  
  
She held her head high, tapping a finger on her lips. "Thank you?"  
  
Smiling, he walked right up to her, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her right into him. He leaned down then, hovering just over her mouth. "I love you." He breathed then lovingly took her lips.  
  
He never deepened the kiss, but when he pulled away, she licked her lips. "That was nice." Trish reached up, brushing her fingers in his long blonde hair, pushing the fibers away from his face and behind his ear. She traced those fingers down the scruff of his side burns and over his chin. "Will you let me give you your birthday massage?"  
  
He waggled his eyebrows. "What exactly will you be massaging?"  
  
"Everything eventually."  
  
He groaned, smiling down at her. "You really know how to talk to a man."  
  
Trish chuckled. "I know how to talk to you."  
  
Chris snickered. "Well that's all that counts now, isn't it?"  
  
"Come on." She coaxed.  
  
But Chris didn't move. Kept his arms around her, stayed as close as possible. "I had a different plan. See it's my birthday, right?"  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"So do I get to do anything I want?"  
  
Trish turned her head slightly, eyeing him. "That is really going to depend. I know you too well, Christopher. What exactly are you thinking?"  
  
Kissing her once then again and again, he relentlessly sucked on her lips. Nibbling slightly, coaxing her, she finally collapsed against him and he chose that moment to flip his tongue into her mouth. Wrapping dutifully around hers, he licked and sucked at her tongue, just kissing her in every way he could. Finally convinced, he'd taken her breath away, he broke the kiss.  
  
"Oh, God, I love you." She mumbled against his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth, unable to keep herself from kissing him. And kiss him she did. Kissed him in a way he'd never felt a kiss before. And pretty soon, he was just as breathless as she.  
  
Chris pulled her more tightly against him, letting her feel every single curve of his hard body. Every curve, every muscle. "It's my birthday." He panted. "And I just want to touch you in everyway. So ... let me ... massage you. Let me do everything. Let me take care of you; let me have my way with you; let me control everything. I want to pleasure you, and I want to just touch you. Let me make love to you, Trishy. Let me take the lead."  
  
Trish ran her hands up his arms, neck and tangling in his hair. "Do whatever you want to me, Baby. Make me yours. Your last present. Do what you want to me. Do everything."  
  
Chris moaned. "We have all night. And I swear to you, I will go all night. And right now ... I just want to kiss you." He leaned down, capturing her lips, their tongues twining, mouths moving together, bodies pressed close and hands roaming.  
  
So maybe Chris was a fool. A complete fool for thinking everything he did earlier. A fool for thinking she would forget, that maybe even that she didn't love him. Cuz she did. And he loved her. And Chris knew that he had everything. Everything right here. Everything he ever wanted and needed and desired right here in his arms. Just everything in his arms. Trish Stratus in his arms.  
  
- END *** And that's that. Yup, isn't it sweet. Almost made this a harder ... much harder fic, but opted not to, cuz I think it flows much better like this. So I'll leave their evening up to your imagination. And don't worry ... I have a great one lined up for Trish's birthday in December, although it's unrelated to this one. I'm such a sucker for Trish/Chris now. Read review, have fun*** 


End file.
